Hair Dye
by 1980s-popito
Summary: Rainy Day asks Perfect Tommy a question she's not the first to wonder about. (Buckaroo Banzai universe one-shot. Perfect Tommy paired with my OC, Rainy Day.)


_**Hair Dye**_

Perfect Tommy held Rainy Day on his bare chest, his left hand going back and forth between playing with the ends of her tousled hair and running his fingers along her bare shoulder. She held the blanket over her body just reaching her neck and she nudged herself between his torso and his arm. She stared out the window of his room as the setting sun cast shadows against the computer and jumble of papers and gadgets on his desk while he stared up at the ceiling.

Perfect Tommy and Rainy Day had been together for months and she was the girl he'd been with the longest. She was the girl he took seriously in a relationship, and this was the first real relationship he ever cared about. She was not a fling or one of the countless girls he flirted with after the shows at Artie's Artery.

Rainy Day was a girl who had unintentionally made her way to the institute. She quickly became involved in the main circle of the Banzai Institute, became an intern, and quickly became a resident. During that time, she had become romantically involved with Perfect Tommy. She knew his romantic history from the tabloids and interviews, but she never really cared. People who knew Tommy best- like Lady Gillette, Rawhide, Red River Daddy, Reno Nevada, and Buckaroo Banzai himself- told her that they knew she was the real deal for him and to give him a chance. So she did, and as of this point, she did not regret the decision.

"Hey, Tommy?" Rainy Day said suddenly, shifting her gaze from the window to his face.

Perfect Tommy did not look down at her just yet, "Yeah?" he questioned in a gentle voice.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

She hesitated for a moment. "What's your natural hair color?"

He didn't answer, but rather stayed silent for a moment, then let out a soft laugh; she felt it in her head as his chest moved up and down. "What?"

"Your hair color. You've always dyed it. I'm just curious: what's the natural color?"

He laughed again. "Honest answer?" She nodded. "I don't really know anymore," he laughed.

She smiled in amusement. "Rawhide says the dye leaked into your brain," she commented.

"He would say that."

"What was it's color when you were a kid?"

Perfect Tommy thought about it for a good minute or two. "It was dark. Dark brown. Not as dark as Mrs. Johnson's hair, but not too far."

"How old were you the first time you dyed it?"

"I was in eighth grade. There's a story with it."

"Can I hear it?"

He chuckled again. "I was trying to impress this girl. She was into blonde guys. I had read _The Outsiders_ in school, so I figured I could go out and buy some peroxide and dye my hair blonde like Ponyboy did. So I went out after school on some Friday and spent my night pouring peroxide all over my head."

"Wouldn't that dry out your hair?"

"It did. About half of the hair on my head dried out. My mom got so mad. I went to school on Monday with a winter hat on, in the middle of spring in the south. Wore that thing all through the summer till my hair grew out long enough to cut off the dry bits. Then in high school, a friend of mine helped me dye my hair red like Lucille Ball to impress this other girl."

"Did it work?" Rainy Day asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. "Yeah, for about three weeks till she found out I wasn't really a redhead."

"Harsh."

"Yeah," Perfect Tommy sighed. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Ever dye your hair?"

She was silent for a moment. "Twice."

"What color?"

"When I was seventeen, when I was trying to be a part of the punk scene, I dyed my hair jet black with neon pink and green and blue streaks all throughout. Then when I was twenty, I dyed my hair platinum blonde."

"How platinum?"

She thought it over. "Lighter than Debbie Harry but not by much."

His eyes widened for a brief moment. "I can't imagine you blonde."

"I'll show you a picture one day."

"Don't change your hair, okay?"

"Why?"

"I like it the way it is. Don't you?"

She shrugged. "I do. It's easier to not dye it anyway."

"Don't I know it."


End file.
